It doth transcend all humane sight,
Lost in the element of love.
“You poets reach not this, who sing
The praise of dust
But kneaded, when by theft you bring
The rose and lilly from the spring,
Τ’ adorne the wrinckled face of lust.
“When we speake love, nor art, nor wit
We glosse upon:
Our soules engender, and beget